The Fog
by Coney cuniculus
Summary: The fog has arrived on the downs. It's choking, scary, unnerving. An unplanned trip into the fog results in Speedwell, and his son, Thistle, getting lost. But something lurks in the fog. Are they friends or foes?
1. La Desaparición de Thistle

It was spring and the flowers and vegetation were almost full. The bird's tweets filled the open air and a cool breeze drifted along lazily stirring their feathers. The sky was crystal clear and little clouds were sprinkled across it.

The sun's rays reached out and touched the green lush lands of the downs, where rabbits lived, some chasing each other and others munching on the fresh spring grass. Among the rabbits was a small light gray youngling, who was barely more than two months old, and they called him Thistle.

Thistle was a content and caring rabbit, who would help others when he had the chance and, unlike most his age, he looked out for his family, be it his friends or parents. He also enjoyed many hobbies such as finding shapes that the clouds were arranged in or perhaps a game of freeze tag, a game one of his many friends made up. But his favorite thing to do was to lie down and listen to his father Speedwell's stories about the great journey and how they defeated woundwort.

On this particular day, he decided that it would be a good idea to go see shapes in the clouds, "cloud viewing" as he called it.

He made his way to his favorite spot and sat down. He started to study the clouds.

"Thistle?"

Thistle recognized that voice and turned around to see birch, one of his younger pals, who had a darker gray color of fur.

"Yep! That's my name, don't wear it out!" He said joyfully.

"Very funny Thistle, may I ask what you're doing?"

"Oh me? I just looking for shapes in the clouds"

Birch scrunched his face up in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because it's a fun thing to do! Here let me show you something" Thistle hopped to birches ' side and beckoned him to look up at the sky.

"See that right there?" He pointed towards a cloud.

"What does that look like to you?"

Birch thought for a moment and said, "well it kind of looks like uh. Um uh. It looks like a rabbit?"

"That's exactly what I thought when I saw it!"

"Well I still don't see how you can get any enjoyment out of it"

"But don't you think clouds are shaped like that for a reason sometimes?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if the rabbit shaped cloud is actually hazel-rah looking down over us?"

"You're crazy!"

"Hey, it's just a thought!" Thistle said defensively.

"I don't understand why you would want to look at clouds all day. Why don't you come play with us?

"Because I don't really feel like playing today" Thistle yawned.

"Oh, of course ya don't Thistle, an rabbit with your heads in the clouds, I swear if I weren't here you would have floated away," he noticed that thistle had tuned him out and was looking at the sky again.

Birch had had enough of Thistle for one day and decided to leave, "I think I hear someone calling my name. See you around Thistle"

"See you around!" He responded still looking at the sky

And with that Birch hopped away.

Thistle looks on as the clouds danced and twirled among the bright blue sky, in a dance that was chaotic and rhythmic all at the same time, sometimes forming recognizable shapes like rabbits or trees and sometimes making otherworldly figures. Then thistle saw something that intrigued him. A completely black cloud and it had a perfect show of a bird. Thistles blood ran cold. It was a bird, a hawk at that, and he was right out in the open, far from the safety of the warren. He noticed that no one else was above ground, it was him and only him. The only rabbit above ground, and right in the open as well. Free for the taking. He bolted toward the nearest hole. His heart pounding in his head. His paws flew faster than they had ever flown before. _I'm not going to be food today!_ He hoped. The hole was only a few hops away. He could hear the hawk getting closer. _Come on! Come on!_

It was hopeless. The hawks shadow was upon him and he was suddenly jerked high into the air. He cried in shock and fear. The world swung wildly around him, and he started to feel dizzy.

He tried to thrash around and escape. Thinking quickly he kicked his feet at the hawk's chest. The hawk cried and let go of Thistle. Then thistle realized how far off the ground he was. The tree on the down looked about the size of a clover. For a split second he was suspended in mid-air, already doomed with no way to escape the inevitable, soon he felt the effects of gravity pulling down on him. squealed as he plummeted to the ground.


	2. Memento Mori

_"Well I think you return to obscure_

 _or wherever you were before you where_

 _but I won't let you lose yourself in the rain"_

 _\- Spring and a Storm, Tally Hall_

* * *

Pain. That's all Thistle could feel, and blood, the only thing Thistle could taste. His body was weakened by the immensity amount of pain he was feeling. His head was throbbing as if a woodpecker and started pecking at his brain in slow, rhythmic, strikes.

Thistle slowly pried open his eyes to an otherworldly landscape, it seemed to be a large clearing surrounded by an assortment of trees, and a thick heavy fog blanketed the landscape, giving everything a pale tint.

Slowly and carefully, Thistle lifted himself up onto his paws, wincing as the pain grew in intensity. _Where am I_ he wondered to himself, he didn't even remember hitting the ground? Everything happened so quickly.

Suddenly a voice spooked Thistle.

"There you are Thistle" the voice was loud and powerful. He looked around to find the source of the sound, but couldn't find it.

"Don't worry little one, I'll reveal myself when it's time." Thistle quickly cut in.

"Where am I? Who are you? What's going on? Will I get to-"

"Hush little one," the voice said, "I will answer your questions if you allow me to speak." The voice paused as if waiting for Thistle to react, then continued.

"You are dead Thistle, you didn't survive the fall."

Thistle's ears drooped, "But I'm still young! Can't I do anything to come back?"

"No," the voice said with a hint of frustration as if he had been asked this question many times.

"No, you cannot; because death is irreversible! Do you think I'd draw the line with you?"

Thistle stayed still in the clearing, tears started to form in his eyes.

The wind picked up, and a big dark rabbit whose pelt was the color of the night sky materialized in front of him.

The dark rabbit tilted thistle's head with his paw.

"I know you must be sad; I've seen kits, many younger than you, go through the same thing. But you will learn to accept it in time. Come on, I'll show you what I mean." The black rabbit took his paw off Thistle and beckoned the youngling to follow him.

He was about four hops away from Thistle when he noticed that the gray buck wasn't following him. He turned around and spotted a glimpse of Thistle's tail as he fled the clearing. _That stubborn kit_ the black rabbit thought as Thistle dashed out of sight, _He's going to get himself lost._ The black rabbit chuckled to himself; _He'll learn in time_.

* * *

T histle huffed and puffed. He didn't know why he didn't want to follow the black rabbit; It would have been way easier if he had just gone along. But something burned inside of him, telling him to go on even though in the back of his mind he thought of it as hopeless.

After going through the forest for what seemed like seasons he came to its edge. Heading towards the edge the trees immediately stopped and the grass faded into a completely white and smooth plain. Just after the grass was a dense wall of fog in which Thistle couldn't seem to see through.

Something in the back of his mind told him that this was the way out; Behind the fog would be his freedom. He slowly hopped towards the dense wall of fog; an icy chill was produced by it. He stuck his paw into the fog and quickly pulled it back out. The fog was extremely cold and left his skin feeling tingly. But the voice insisted that he keep going.

Taking a breath Thistle plunged himself into the icy fog. The cold enveloped him into an uncomfortable embrace; it stabbed at his eyes and reached through his bones, but still, he persisted.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore he saw something that gave him hope; the ground was slowly turning back into grass the more he moved forward. He continued to push even though his entire body was stiffing. _This looks familiar_ he thought, trying to take his mind off the fact that he had started shivering and chattering his teeth; and indeed it was. Looking forward he could just make out an outline of the tree at Watership Down.

A strange shimmering in the fog caught his attention; a voice in the back of his mind told him to go towards it. Upon getting closer he saw that the shimmering was an orb, and below this orb was a body; his body.

 _Touch it_ the voice said, _it will set you free_.

Thistle hesitantly stuck out his paw towards the orb; it radiated an immense heat, not too hot, but a comfortable warmth. He touched the orb and a sensation of heat overcame him; it started from his paw and spread through to his feet, warming his entire body. Then his entire body started to tingle; it started soft but grew more intense. He tried to pry away from the orb but found that he couldn't move.

A flash of blinding light filled Thistle's vision; it was beautiful.

Thistle's body started aching, his lungs started to feel as if they were on fire. His neck felt extremely sore, and his hind left leg felt numb. He gasped, forcing soothing air back into his aching lungs and opened his eyes; the blinding light of the sun hurt them. He slowly picked himself and nearly cried out in pain when he set his back leg down.

Thistle suddenly sensed that there were others looking at him. He saw faces, all of them held a state of shock.

"Thistle!" a voice cried; it was Thistle's father: speedwell.

Thistle felt the warm embrace of his fathers fur. He noticed Speedwell was shaking as if he was very upset.

"I'll never let you go thistle!" Speedwell said; his voice was cracking under sadness. "I was so worried. I'm sorry Thistle I'll take better care of you." Speedwell shook with tears; Thistle's eyes filled with tears; he was glad he was back. He tried to nuzzle his father but his neck hurt too much.

"Speedwell!" another voice shouted, "Get away from him! Can't you see that his leg is broken?" Thistle felt his leg throbbing in pain again. _Of course, she had to remind me._

"Off! Off!" the doe said again. "Follow me my little one, we'll go get you fixed up!"

Thistle limped off in pursuit of the doe. But he couldn't help but turn his head to see how his father was faring; he was talking with fiver. Thistle strained to hear what they were saying.

"That wasn't natural Speedwell!" a male rabbit said; it was Fiver. "That was too high of a fall for him to survive."

"Can't I be happy that my son is alive?"

"I'm not saying you can't Speedwell, but I have a bad feeling, something is coming; I don't know what. But I know it's going to be bad."

"It was a miracle, and that's good enough for me"

"Is it a miracle Speedwell? Or is it a curse that hasn't fully presented itself?"

Speedwell remained silent and only glared at Fiver.

"Thistle are you coming?" the doe asked.

Thistle turned his head around. "Yes, ma'am" Thistle replied. _What does Fiver mean by that?_ He thought himself _did I do something wrong?_.


	3. visiones

**Chapter 2: le début de la fin**

"UN ENSEMBLE D'ENFANTS  
LA GALAXIE S'ÉTEND  
JARDIN DE L'IMAGINATION" - Dream sweet in sea major

"How does this feel?" Strawberry asked as she shifted Thistle's leg. A sharp pain ran through it causing him to grimace.

"I'm guessing not that good," she said, answering herself.

"Strawberry? When will I be able to walk on my own again?" Thistle asked. He was growing antsy regardless of his injuries

"Sorry Thistle but your injuries are quote sever. You're lucky to even have your heart beating"

"I guess you're right," he mumbled. His mind drifted off to him back in the fog. _What exactly happened?_ Did he question. _Was it all just a dream?_ His heart sunk, _am I still alive_?

Another sharp pain snapped him back to reality. _No, I'm still definitely alive_ he winced.

Strawberry started to wrap his broken leg in grass to hold it in place.

"There!" she proclaimed, "Now don't do anything rash, just keep it slow and in a few months you should be back on your own feet,"

Thistle thanked Strawberry and limped out of the nursery. Just outside was birch; He was wearing a perplexed expression on his face.

"What is it?" asked thistle, feeling slightly offset by his staring.

"You're still alive thistle. That's incredible," Birch said.

"Well I'm here aren't I?"

"No, you don't understand Thistle; That fall you took was massive. You should not have survived that."

Thistle was taken aback. "So you _wanted_ me to die?"

Birch realized his mistake, "No I don't mean that. In fact, I'm happy you're alive. It's just-just when I was looking at on the ground you-" he stopped for a second as if the topic disturbed him. "When I looked at you- you-you looked completely dead Thistle. When I checked for a heartbeat there was none, there was even blood coming out of your mouth! But then, suddenly you were alive. Just out of the blue, there you were; One second you were unnaturally still, then you were suddenly lively again. It's just that- it didn't feel right to me Thistle."

Thistle could sense Birch's bewilderment.

"Birch I can assure you that nothing is wrong; all I've got is a broken leg and a sore neck. Everything will be just fine."

"Well, if you say so, Thistle. You know me and a few other of my friends are going to play bob stones. Care to join us?" Birch asked he seemed to have calmed down.

"Yeah yeah. I'll be out in a moment."

With that Birch hopped back outside the burrow.

Thistle started to stress. _What if I did do something wrong? What if I shouldn't be alive. Well, I guess nothing has happened yet so I must be fine!_

"Thistle are you okay?" Strawberry asked.

"Yes, yes I am strawberry," he said quickly.; then he too hopped out of the burrow.

Speedwell stretched and lied down on the soft grass. The sun was as vibrant as ever and made the entire world seem to glow with a comforting atmosphere and, after Thistle's accident, there didn't seem to be any more birds.

"Good morning Speedwell!" Fiver said as he sat down next to him.

"Good morning Fiver," Speedwell responded.

"What's wrong? You look down," Fiver said, noticing that Speedwell's ears were drooping.

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how it could be a curse Fiver," Speedwell shifted uncomfortably.

Fiver and Speedwell exchanged conversation for several minutes until Fiver had decided he had enough chat and left to seek something more entertaining.

Speedwell sat lay alone and let the warm fresh air lull him into a light sleep.

Speedwell woke up with a start. _How long have I been asleep?_ He wondered.

The sky was now a dark black canvas dotted with small specs of light; stars. A cool breeze carrying a hint of the daytime stirred his fur.

Speedwell slowly hopped back towards the warren, reasoning that he wouldn't want to end up dead halfway through a nap.

There was blood. Blood at the entrance of the warren. Speedwell felt his heart sink. _Who's blood is it?_ He wondered to himself. _Where does this lead?_.

He slowly followed the blood trail through the warren. It stretched out for quite a while, beckoning the rabbit to follow it with its glistening trail, a scarlet that contained an evil unknonw to him, and to all of them.

The trail stopped quickly and suddenly, and at the end was a body, a corpse that was twisted and plagued with rot. A ghastly sight. Yet speedwell could not take his eyes off it.

There was something so strange about death in speedwell mind. It could happen suddenly or over a long period of time. And once death had gone it left a corpse, a soulless cluster of meat, bones, and blood; a simple puppet that has no controller, left to rot and return to the earth.

The corpse lay there, its face complete mangled by an unknown source; blood pooled where it lay but it was obvious that it had long since stopped running.

A rabbit of immense proportions, whose fur was the color of death, a sickly black that seemed to consume any light that came into contact with it, was standing over the body. He simply gaze'd down upon it with intent as if stu'dying it to see if it would spring to life and dance. Speedwell called out to the rabbit but it did not answer, instead, it kept its focus.

Speedwell tried again. The black rabbit slowly rais'd his head and stare'd at Speedwell. The rabbit's crimson eyes sent shivers down his spine.

"Who are? What is happening?" Speedwell choked in confusion, "why-what-how?"

Finally, the Black rabbit spoke.

"I know it may seem hard; stuff like this is never black and white. I'm sure you'll understand that it's your turn to præy."

"What does that mean?" Speedwell whispered. But the rabbit did not reply, and instead resumed to look at the body.

"Speedwell! Wake up!"


	4. hijo y la niebla

Fiver had been on edge since the incident. The unnatural way that Thistle had gotten up with minimal injuries worried him. He knew that death was what it was the ending, the final curtain, something that couldn't be reversed. Yet somehow one little kit managed to do it!

Fiver was outside the warren trying to clear his head. Bigwig came out of one of the holes and greeted him. Fiver greeted Bigwig back.

"Nice weather we're having! Aye, Fiver?" Bigwig asked cheerfully.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Fiver responded, studying the sky

"You know Bigwig, have you noticed a light fog recently"

Fiver was right about his observation. Only minutes after Speedwell had had his "nightmare" the fog came down. It was only a light mist that washed out the landscape, barely noticeable, yet is was there nonetheless.

"Now that you mention it, I do" Bigwig exclaimed.

There was an awkward pause.

Bigwig suddenly said in a hushed voice, "what was with you going mad yesterday? You seemed distressed,"

"It's just I had this feeling." Fiver started.

"Yes, you had a feeling. Was it good? Was it bad Fiver? I can't go off with the information that you "had a feeling","

"I don't know; it's not good or bad, it's, uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable?" Bigwig asked, perplexed as to what that meant.

"Yes. Not comfortable Bigwig. Even the fog today is worrying. You remember the last time there was fog?"

Bigwig plundered this thought.

"Oh, yes I removed now. So you're saying that this fog is bad?"

"My brother dying was devastating to me! Do you know how much he meant to me? He was there when I was hurt, he even helped me find my first mate! And then the fog comes one day, and then he's gone with the wind!"

"Death is a part of life Fiver! I don't think just because the sky is a little fuzzier, that means we have to run and clings onto our lives!"

"If only you had the same feelings as me," Fiver grumbled. "Then you would understand."

"Well I would love to stay and talk Fiver, but I've got to go. Blackberry-rah insisted that I start training the younger fellows about defense, you should come over and watch." Bigwig offered. Fiverr denied his request and stated that he was heading over to strawberry to asks a few questions.

Fiver crawled through the winding tunnels of the warren, taking great care not to hit his head on any of the overhanging roots. Suddenly Fiver ran into a rabbit.

"Sorry! Sorry!" The rabbit said.

Fiver recognized the voice.

"Strawberry! What are you doing inside?"

"I-uh overslept sir," Strawberry responded, a bit of embarrassment in his voice.

"None of that sir nonsense! Strawberry I'm still the same Fiver you know and love. Even if I am 'the warrens prophet'" Fiver teased.

Strawberry chuckled a bit.

"Okay 'oh wise one', why are _you_ down here?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Who?"

"Strawberry."

"Well, you're looking right at him!"

"Not you." Fiver corrected, "the other strawberry,"

"Oh. Well, I think I saw her near the clinical burrows."

"Thank you, Strawberry."

"You're welcome Fiver."

—-

Fiver headed over to the clinical burrows.

The air smelled of several different types of herbs and plants; vegetation was collected into neat little piles in one of the burrows; the rest were empty. Fiver found Strawberry cleaning up the scraps of vegetation.

"Strawberry?"

Strawberry jumped in surprise.

"Whoa! Fiver! I didn't know you were there!" She laughed.

Fiver half-heartedly laughed with her.

"Listen. Strawberry. I have a few questions for you," Fiver said sternly.

Her ears dropped slightly.

"You're not in trouble," he reassured. She seemed to relax a little.

"Well, what is it Fiver?" She prodded.

"You were fixing up this youngling right? His name was Thistle I believe?"

"Yes you're right," Strawberry said with an air of unease. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I just want to know, what injuries did he sustain?"

She jogged her memory.

"He only had a broken leg and a sore neck, along with other cuts and bruises, but nothing life-threatening. If you ask me, it's a miracle he's alive!" Strawberry chuckled.

"Yes. I suppose you could call It that," Fiver said to himself.

"Hey! While you're here, do you want to help me clean up this mess? I would love it if you did!"

Fiver hesitated for a second, then finally said yes.

"Thank you Fiver, I knew I could count on you," strawberry said enthusiastically.

Fiver picked up some herbs and set to work.

Strawberry thanked Fiver for his help and set back outside to enjoy the rest of the day, and Fiver went his separate way and ended up on the opposite side of the warren, where the sun was beginning to set in the west. The sky was different hues of reds and yellows. The fog was still there, and it had even thickened slightly. Speedwell ran up to Fiver.

Speedwell told Fiver about the dream he had earlier that day. Fiver listened to every bit of his story with intent, all the while a feeling of dread developed. Why would Seedwell have such a dream when it was Fiver, the warren prophet, who would have such visions. It didn't make sense to him.

Fiver told Speedwell that all would be fine. Speedwell sighed with relief and head into the warren to get some rest.

Fiver looked back at the sinking sun, it seemed to taunt him.

"Why won't you speak to me?" He asked the sun, "Why have you suddenly gone so quiet?" But the sun did not respond.


	5. Meurtres d'assassins Vivant Dans La Peur

_Gunax lbh thlf fb zhpu sbe erivrjvat zl snasvpgvba! Vg zrnaf n ybg!_

Frith had grown quite, nothing ever came out of it. It didn't speak even a whisper is stranded tunes. It had simply stopped and drifted along the sky, observing, but not interfering; it did not care or it simply could not see.

The fog had grown completely opaque; it emitted a strange unnatural glow that illuminated the grass. The dense fog made the old tree simply a ghastly silhouette with claws that reached towards the white sky.

The rabbits of the honeycomb noticed this but did not hesitate. After all, if they couldn't see their enemies, their enemies couldn't see them; Thus thy continued silflaying.

Inside the honeycomb in the chief rabbits burrow sat four rabbits. The chief rabbit, Bigwig, Hawkbit, and Blackberry. The chief rabbit had called them for an assignment he needs them to do.

"We are running out of flayrah to eat," he proclaimed, "well need you four to go and get some from the garden nearby."

"You can count on us! Blackberry-rah!" Bigwig replied. However, Hawkbit seemed less inclined.

"But Blackberry-rah, we can't just stroll out into the fog; we'll get lost!"

The chief rabbit answered. "That's why You're bringing Blackberry with you. She can find her way out of Efrafa with her eyes closed," he gave a soft chuckle.

Blackberry lifted her head up slightly higher. She felt proud.

Hawkbit mumbled something about them "having the same name", and "that's why he chose her". But no other rabbit took notice.

While many rabbits had stayed outside to eat or to play, Speedwell and Thistle had decided to stay in as Thistle said his leg felt "funny." Speedwell being the caring father he is decided that a trip to the clinical burrows would be a good idea, and he talked with strawberry, who said that he should stay in and refrain from any major activity.

Speedwell had decided to pass the time with stories from his adventures to Watership down as well as some classic tales as well. Thistle listened intently on each of them and asked many questions such as "was it scary?", "what was hazel like?" all of which Speedwell and happily.

"Dad? Could you tell me about the bad rabbit again?" Thistle asked politely. He had heard of General Woundwort but had never known what he was like.

"Ok thistle," Speedwell replied cheerfully.

"Woundwort was a bad rabbit indeed; he was one of the biggest out there!"

"Even bigger than Bigwig?"

"Even bigger than Bigwig. He was a good soul, albeit corrupted. I've heard that he helped with does when the digging got rough and would take command if a rabbit got tired. But of course, his bad traits greatly outway his good. He didn't know when to quit; he would rather die in a battle than live another day. He didn't fear death, he wasn't afraid to die,"

"But isn't that a good thing" Thistle cocked his head to the side.

"It would be a good thing if he wasn't so evil. Bigwig told me that he made his warren a prison. He would only let his rabbits out during certain parts of the day. And Bigwig also told me how he ordered his chiefs to imprison and/or kill anyone who disobeyed." Speedwell finished.

"Killing is a bad thing to do," Thistle said, a hint of sadness threaded until his voice.

"That's right Thistle, killing _is_ bad,"

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Thistle asked.

Speedwell was taken aback by this question, visions of his nightmare flashed in his head, the dead body, the blood. but then reasoned that Thistle was young and curiosa, and didn't mean any offense. "No, I have not."

"That's good!"Thistles cheer returned to his voice, "why do elil kill?"

"Well, that's a simple question Thistle and a great segue into our next story! You see…"

The two stayed in the clinical warren for many more hours, Speedwell entertained Thistle as he recovered.

"Blackberry? Are we sure we're going the right way? My Feet are starting to hurt, and I think Bigwig is going to collapse any minute now!" Hawkbit shouted and looked back at Bigwig, who was huffing and puffing.

Bigwig, Hawkbit, and Blackberry had been traveling through the fog for what seemed like days, and even though Blackberry was certain they were going the right way, the pain in her paws drained away from her confidence. That wasn't all. What was once nice warm weather an hour ago turned into frigid temperatures, as if it had turned to winter.

"Just a little farther, Hawkbit!" Blackberry called back.

"I don't think Bigwig can," Speedwell said.

Blackberry glanced behind her to see a silhouette of Bigwig hunching over and breathing heavily.

"Fine, I guess we'll rest here for a while."

Bigwig breathes the words thank you but no one had noticed.

The trio bunched together for warmth and tried to relax.

"It was stupid of Blackberry-rah to send us out here," Hawkbit grumbled into Bigwigs flank. "I thought he got picked because he was smart!" Hawkbit gave a quick tremor.

"Hawkbit, I wouldn't be talking, aren't you the one who said storing flayrah in the deep burrows was a good idea? And then what happened? It all got ruined after the rain that's what!" Bigwig spoke

"Oh, now the fat rabbit starts talking!"

Bigwig, quick as lighting, sat up and glared at Hawkbit, to which the annoying rabbit shrunk back.

"Take that back, or I'll claw off your ears!" Bigwig growled.

"Oh! Does the Owsla captain suddenly very concourse about his weight?" Hawkbit said in a mocking tone.

"Hey! Break it up you two!" Blackberry scolded.

The two bucks looked at Blackberry, embarrassment in their eyes, and then walked away from each other. Only for them to huddle back together not ten seconds later.

 _Bucks will be bucks I suppose_. Remarked Blackberry.

She looked out into the fog to see if she could make out any landmarks that may help them find their way. She couldn't see much except for a shadow, that was in the shape of a rabbit.

She called out to it, "Hello?"

The shadow just stood there. It was a rabbit shape, a rather large rabbit as well; torn ears stay atop its head, revealing that the rabbit had been in many battles, or had at least survived an encounter with many elil.

She called out to it again, "Are you lost?"

The rabbit remained motionless. By then Blackberry's companions had noticed too. Hawkbit looked at the shadow with confusion and fear, he seemed to have shrunk back upon seeing the rabbit while Bigwig stared at the intimidating rabbit with a look of perplexity and awe. He was the first to speak.

"Hello? Who are you? What do you want from us?"

The rabbit remained still, and for a short amount of time, they all stood there, staring at each other in the fog, until the dark rabbit made its first move. It was a simple move, nothing more than a flick of it's torn ears. Suddenly three more rabbits seemed to appear from behind the big one. All of them were smaller than the main rabbit, Blackberry had noticed that one of the smaller rabbits was limping.

"I don't like where this is going Blackberry!" Hawkbit whispered to her. She could hear the fear that was carried through his voice. "Could we just head back to the warren? Please?" He gave a shiver.

Blackberry nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the four strangers in front of her. There was something off about them, ignoring the way they were behaving, they were also giving off a rancid scent; it smelled of rot and death. By way, Hawkbit and Bigwig twitched their noses told her it wasn't just her in head.

"We need to go!" She declared and started toward the Honeycomb, which could be seen with the faint silhouette of the tree dangling in the mist. Hawkbit followed suit.

"Come on Bigwig!" She commanded to the buck, who had stood where he was, confident that he could take them on.

"Oh come on! They'll see a proper fight yet!" He said as he got into a fighting stance.

"NO. You are not Bigwig. You're not as fast and nimble as you were, now come on!" She scolded.

Bigwig laid down his ears and proceeded to trot up to Hawkbits side. They continued to hop away.

She glanced behind her to see that the four dark rabbits were slowing advancing towards them. She quickened her pace. The dark rabbits quickened their pace as well.

"Run." Blackberry and Bigwig said together. They broke into a full-on sprint, not daring to look back and see how close they had gotten.

The cold air whipped crashed into them, nearly knocking them off-balance, but they continued on. They ran out of fear of the unknown, they didn't head any attention to their legs, which begged for them to stop, but still, they pressed on through the thick fog until they finally reached the safety of the honeycomb.

"Are they gone?" Hawkbit huffed, he started swaying from fatigue. Blackberry immediately headed towards the chief rabbits burrow. Bigwig had stopped just short of the warren entrance and was looking out into the fog.

"No." He said. The dark rabbits were mere shapes in the fog. Stalking them with evil intent.


	6. Flip-side

Groundsel looked out into the dark night. The trees and grass dark purples against the black, twinkling night. The moon hung in the sky, shining full and bright, almost too bright to stare at directly. Groundsel could feel the nighttime chill steadily growing colder, and he let out a shiver. The fog from yesterday had cleared. It was strange, he thought to himself, how to fog quickly arrived and then dissipated in a matter of two days. Most of the time fog would stick around for a long while.

A sudden rustling alerted Groundsel that someone had arrived. Out of the deep darkness popped the head of the efrafa leader Campion.

"Come in! Come in!" Groundsel beckoned.

Campion was no longer as sleek and agile as he used to be; his bones creaked almost every time he hopped, and he had devolved a slight limp from a front paw injury he had gotten an unknown time ago. He seemed tired constantly, eyes drooping as if he had just woken up from a bad night of sleep. On top of all this, his entire body had become weaker. Once he could run for minutes at a time, but now he could barely think about doing it. Groundsel notes that he was limping as well.

"Have you seen Blackberry about?" He asked, scanning the dark landscape, "I told him we would be meeting tonight".

Groundsel had met with Blackberry-rah two days prior to when they were to meet. 'In two days we are to meet at my warren at moonlight. Promises me you'll be there,' he had said. BlackBerry had verbally agreed.

"No I have not," campion responded, "Shall we wait for him?"

Groundsel agreed.

After a long while, Blackberry-rah hasn't appeared. Groundsel started getting frustrated, mad at the fact that Blackberry-rah hadn't kept his word.

"Ah forget it, he probably forgot about it anyway! Follow me to my burrow, I ask someone to bring some flayrah for us both," Groundsel nudged campion to his feet.

"Hold on a moment, Groundsel. I know Blackberry, he isn't one who is keen to forget. In fact, the reason he was the new Chief of the honeycomb is his intelligence. Even if he couldn't come he would probably send one of his owsla." Campion reasoned.

"Then why hasn't anyone appeared yet? Trust me, Campion, he forgot."

"That doesn't seem quite right, he isn't one to forget, especially with things like this. Maybe something happened to him"

"What could have happened? If he was killed we would have gotten that news by now, if he was taken away by a hawk we would know, and it would be entirely unreasonable if they ran away."

"And it would be improbable that he forgot, Groundsel." Campion pointed out.

Groundsel pondered on the thought for a second, then spoke once more, "We could argue about it all night, but we have more important things to discuss than the blunder of one of our other members! If he does show up that's that. Anyhow Campion: follow me, we've got things to discuss in the security of my burrow."

Campion tagged behind Groundsel, limping on his tired legs. He looked back towards the warren's entrance. BlackBerry still hadn't appeared.

They both had discussed what had happened to their warrens. At Efrafa nothing major happened except for a lone dog who had wandered near it. As for vleflain, a light fog, and a hawk a few days ago were barely any news. Campion enjoyed the meetings, he had to be honest. It was nice to see old faces. But this time he felt odd about it. He didn't feel as enthralled in it as he usually did. Perhaps it was old age, or maybe he was bored with its repetition. He felt this way even before the passing of hazel.

A hint of sadness came upon him when he thought about Hazel; he was a successful leader, not perfect, but a fair and kind one. It was no surprise when they heard the news of his passing; it was quick and sudden, he had simply died, no grace, no glory.

After he had died the warren had a vote on who would be the next chief rabbit. Their first idea was Fiver, being as he was the brother of the late thistle, and this would be a reasonable choice. However, he turned the opportunity down, opting instead for BlackBerry to be the next Warren; he was one of brightest rabbits out there. Of course, Groundsel and Campion heard about this from messengers, and not during the meetings that took place prior.

Campion pulled himself away from his reflections and put his attention back on groundsel, who had started making plans for safer messenger routes. The messengers were Hazel's ideas

Messengers are a select few of, particularly brave rabbits. Their job is to send messages between warrens as quick as possible; they usually go in pairs, whoever sometimes only one may go. However due to the high fatalities of the job they needed to change the paths.

After they had finished talking about the plans for new routes, as well as particularly fatal parts of land between the warrens, Groundsel finished up the meeting. He thanked Campion for coming and sent him on his way.

"Thank you for coming, Campion, see you next full moon." He said.

Campion nodded and disappeared into the night. The rustling of brush and bushes slowly faded away.

Groundsel went back inside his warren towards his burrow. Along the way, he came across another rabbit, a messenger rabbit, which gave him an idea.

"Rose." Groundsel Commanded.

The buck's ears stood up hearing his name. "What is it Groundsel-rah?"

"Tomorrow morning I want you and another messenger to go to Watership Down. Ask BlackBerry-rah why he didn't show up tonight."

"Will do sir," the buck said enthusiastically.

"Good, now I have to go to my burrow. I have important business to attend to."

Groundsel then went to his burrow and fell promptly to sleep.


	7. Mundo de la Niebla

A cool wind blew over the downs. Over the past hour, the temperature took a nosedive and became so frigid that the rabbits resorted to huddling up together just to preserve the warmth that was slowly leaking away from their bodies. Thistle has never felt something that cold before and wondered if it could be the winter he had always heard about. _But where was the snow?_

Movement in the fog suddenly caught his eye. There, only about 15 feet from where he was standing, and where the fog thickened into a dense wall, a silhouette moved to and fro across the foggy landscape; it skittered to the left, dashed to the right, spun around in circles, and then stopped at the fog wall. It was close enough now that thistle could make out the shape of a rabbit.

Intrigued the young buck hopped down near the border and stopped a foot away from it.

The rabbit was much bigger than he had first assumed; it's dark figure towered over the poor buck. Dark red eyes flared down at him chasing him to step back, perturbed by its unfamiliarity.

Then it spoke in an ironically mellow and feminine voice, "It is okay little one. Harmed will not be you. An explanation for you simply wishes I. From this land toiled and from this land returns before you."

Thistle was caught off guard at the way she spoke (at least he thought it was a she). Her words felt unnatural, yet so familiar. Was it her scent that he was now noticing that triggering this? And why?

"My dad told me not to talk to strangers."

"Stranger? Not I! Your mother is me! Gone the flesh, But spirits be. I live non'memory"

The young buck moved and rearranged her words until they made some sense. Although the way she talked still disturbed him.

"I-I still don't understand. How could you be my mother? She's been dead since I could remember."

"True is what described by you. Taken by sickness. A Tragedy. Distressed was your father, and took you into care. My sweet thistle can't you see?"

"A sickness? Is that how she died? I'm going to ask my Father-"

The doe tensed up. "NO." she hissed.

Thistle obeyed out of fear of getting on the doe's bad side. His weariness of her only grew.

"Fool you are Thistle. Do you not see how here you stay? Brought us the magic that brought you back." Her voice became biting, Thistle flinched.

"Magic?" Thistle was beginning to become more befuddled by the second. _Magic? Dad told me magic wasn't real._ "I thought that was the stuff of myth."

The doe nodded her head, "perhaps, maybe. But you see, none of our worlds is like yours. It rules are here,"

"That makes no sense." He said flatly.

His "mother" remained silent.

"Can you talk normally please?"

"Trivial answers you ask, no need at this time, but there is woe across the lands. A creature in the fog that hates of all. Not of a rabbit but of a predator. Your help needs we."

"What?"

"Distressed are thee, dear, thistle. Follow me, I'll show you what I mean." The rabbit raised a paw, beckoning the young rabbit to follow.

"I don't trust you,"

The doe cocked her head, "Whatever not for?"

"I don't know what my mom looked like. I'm not going to just trust someone who says they have been dead for seasons."

The doe chuckled (or whatever the rabbit version of a chuckle is).

"You're a smart one Thistle. Your father, _speedwell_ , taught you well. Have you not noticed, _thistle,_ you never told me your name?"

Thistle paused to process the information. It was true, he was so bewildered he didn't notice it.

"And your fathers."

Yet Thistle wasn't entirely convinced yet. He asked a question that only his real mother would know.

"What happened to Speedwell that caused him to be so attached about me?"

Part of him hoped that she knew the answer, that he could finally see why his father was the way he was. He could hardly wait for her response.

The doe's eyes dropped. Thistle's heart skipped a beat. He didn't mean to make her sad.

"Gone the ones before you. In a tragic tale of woe. Speedwell Id's driven by his failures,"

"The ones before me?"

"Yes. Before the day you've been born, four others had been. But lo troubled times upon the warren fell. Hunger and disease abound, I died along with them."

At this the doe fell silent once more, her face now stoic, unwavering. A hint of sadness in her eyes.

Thistle looked down too. He'd always thought he was the only one. That his father was just the way he was because, well, that's how he had always been.

"But in the past, it shall stay. For now a new challenge at paw. Your deliverance from the fog found, not at length but out and alive. The breath of its capture."

"Huh?"

"Follow." The doe said no more and walked away back into the fog.

 _Do I trust her?_

###

The two walked through the fog-covered landscape without a word for quite a while. Each staring forward, the buck following the doe silently, Not to make a sound. In the distance, a twig snapped. They both looked. Was something following them? No. They relaxed on went on their way.

Soon they came across a thorny barrier around the woods.

"Now Careful," Thistle's mother said, "I don't want you to get hurt."

She stood on her hind legs and scanned the area, her ears perked, "Not here,"

Thistle began to feel uneasy again.

"Matters not. Here, crawl underthy with grace, careful must be you."

Thistle obliged. He got as low to the ground as his legs would allow and began to creep under the thorny barrier. His breath was unsteady as he felt the thorns scrape against his fur. Slowly he stood back up.

"All's well?"

"Yes"

"Good. Continue let us"

As they progressed the trees around them started to get thinner and thinner until they were completely gone, leaving the two alone on a flat grass plane. It continued for quite a while before the doe ordered thistle to stop.

There in front of them, just 5 feet away, the ground suddenly stopped.

"Here are we, Thistle," The doe said, "Look over the edge. There is something I want to show you."

Thistle nodded his head and hopped towards the ledge wearily. From the break in the ground, it sloped down for 15 feet before coming falling off abruptly into the pit. He noticed that the grass near it was charred. Something had burned it. Peering over the young buck saw an astonishing sight that filled his heart with fear.

The pit was terrifying, nothing Thistle had even heard of before. The pit's walls were made of a horrifying material. Dirt mixed with bones. Rabbit bones. The walls curved into a bowl-like shape, converging together into a hole in the center, from it shot a long climb of flames that reached almost out of the center hole itself. Fog billowed from the fire.

Thistle was suddenly jerked forward out towards the pit. He let out a shriek as he started to slide down towards the cliff, scrambling to catch something. Anything. Desperately he splayed out his paws trying to slow his descent, but it didn't help in the slightest. Then something caught his eye; a root! He bit down onto it with his teeth, the root gave way for a good half a foot before coming to a stop just two inches away from the pit's drop off.

 _Shakily he picked himself up on to feet, still holding onto the root to keep him from sliding any further. Who had pushed him?_ But he already knew the answer. Stop the slope stood the shadowy figure of his mother, her red eyes glaring, and her lips drawn into a snarl. She had anticipated him falling into the pit, but the root had to exist in spite of her.

She spoke suddenly in a sickly sweet tone, "Just let go Thistle. That's all I'm asking."

He dared not speak, for he feared that letting go of the root would mean his demise. Instead, he looked daggers at her. Why would his mother treat him like this? Why she so awful? And more importantly, why did his father insist on her being such a sweet doe? A million more thoughts raced through his mind. His teeth started to feel uncomfortable. His jaw weakened, How much longer could he hold on? Desperately he looked to his mother for help. Hoping against hope that maybe she would have a change of heart. But she wasn't there.

She had left him for dead.


	8. terreno hueco

"Be

Leave and decide

Stay and be blind

Easy to claim when you've places to find

We nearly died

Be that inside

grinding the gear of all tides" - Rotary Park

Speedwell was horrified when the dark rabbit pushed his son over the edge. He had seen the two conversing to each other but they had left before he could stop either of them, and he followed the two for their entire journey, walking way back so that if they were to look behind him they wouldn't see he was there. He was suspicious about the doe, and unfortunately, his suspicions were proved correct.

The doe trotted off into the fog, her head held high. Speedwell had to fight himself not to run over to that miserable rabbit and claw her ears off, and instead collected himself and slowly hopped towards the edge of the hole. Thoughts, fear, worry swarmed his mind to the point he felt dizzy. _What would the warren say? I'd just be a failure in their eyes! They'll all laugh at me!_ He shakily peered over the edge, hoping against hope that his only son wasn't gone.

And he wasn't gone; hanging on the root, just two inches away from the deadly drop Thistle clung. At once his relief was gone. He needed to save Thistle, but how? There were no other roots he could hold onto, and the risk of falling to his death frightened him. But Thistle was staring at him with pleading, hopeful eyes. Trusting eyes. They bore into his soul like thorns. Speedwell looked away; his mind flip-flopped between saving Thistle or leaving his son to die and saving his own skin. Both weren't preferable. Again he looked at Thistle, a helpless youngling, panicking, eyes wide. It reminded Speedwell of his first litter. The pain in their eyes, desperate, hopeless as they withered away with diseases. He felt awful that he couldn't do anything to save them; he tossed and turned the days preceding their death. He shook himself back to reality; Thistle wasn't going to die today!

Before his nerves got the best of him he lowered himself over the ridge onto the slope, back feet first. He flexed his paws so that his nails could get some traction before he let go of the ridge. Speedwell took a deep shaky breath and slowly let go, and loosened his grip just a bit. Then he started to slide down the mountain, tearing up the soft dirt as he descended. Quickly he clenched his paws so he wouldn't slip any further. _Oh frith help me_. His heart started to race. _What am I doing?_

Speedwell looked down at the helpless young buck. "I'm coming, just hang on," he panted, _I hope._ He gazed at the large pit with it's massive flames, daring him to get closer, to gobble everything he knew and loved. it was too much, he had to turn back.

 _No Speedwell! Just power through_ he scolded himself, _Do it for you. Do it for Thistle._ The old buck took three deep breaths before continuing his descent, eyes closed shut so he wouldn't have seen how close to the edge he was, then let go, sliding down. Now he was right next to the Thistle, here the dirt got looser and scarier. One wrong move and both of them would cease their continued living on the earth. He shivered.

"T-thistle," Speedwell shook as he spoke, his breath was shallow and fast.

"L-let go of the root."

Thistle shook his head, threatening to tear the root out of the ground.

"Please y-you've got to t-trust me," Speedwell felt himself starting to slip, his legs were beginning to weaken.

"Just-just dig into the ground, I've got you don't w-worry."

Thistle slowly and carefully put his claws into the soft dirt, he looked at Speedwell with panicking eyes.

"Good, n-now when I say go, l-let go of that root, I've got you thistle don't fret and t-then run up the slope as fast as you can." Speedwell moved in closer in.

"Ready?"

The young buck trembled and shook his head, a fearful whine came from his throat.

"Thistle! Trust me, I'm your father; I only want the best for you." He didn't know if thistle could hear the desperation in his voice, his legs felt as if they'd give up at any moment. "Now, are you ready?"

Thistle only stood there, but then slowly started to nod his head.

"O-okay," Speedwell started to panic again. What if it didn't work? He barely even knew what he was doing! But it was too late to start stressing about it now. Speedwell gathered his courage and readied himself. He breathed shaky breaths; moving a buck half his size up a slippery slope was going to be a difficult task.

"Go."

Thistle let go of the root and started sliding downward, but was stopped when Speedwell bit down on his scruff. Almost at once the young buck started kicking up the hill, sending dirt over the ridge and into the abyss below. Speedwell did the same, aiding thistle in his efforts. Speedwell shut his eyes tight, præying to frith that they'd make it out okay. And then the slope stopped, giving way to flat ground.

Suddenly It as if a huge weight had been lifted off Speedwell's chest and he breathed a sigh of relief and opened his eyes. Thistle was clinging flat on the ground, eyes as big as dandelions, huffing silently in and out.

"Thistle? Are you okay?" He bowed down and licked his son's face.

The young buck groaned and slowly stood up. There were tears in his eyes as he pushed himself closer to his father, shaking. All he wanted to do was feel the warmth of him, someone who made sure that Thistle would be safe and protected; someone who would make all the wrong things right. He pressed himself hard against his father's chest and felt his father shift to comfort him.

"It's okay Thistle," Speedwell said soothingly. Thistle looked through his tear sodden eyes to meet the kindness of his father's. As long as his father was here everything was going to be okay. He would make things alright.

Suddenly a tangy, warm scent drifted into his nose causing him to wrinkle it in disgust. He pushed away from Speedwell, much to his surprise. Then he noticed something flowing from his father's back, a bright red colored liquid ran from jagged wounds and collected into a small glowing puddle underneath him.

"Dad look!" He exclaimed and stared at the liquid coming from his father's back.

Speedwell followed his gaze and nearly screamed. Blood. It made him queasy; he hated it. And now he was covered in it, and it was his own! But how? Of course! The thorns; he scrambled under them haphazardly and felt a searing pain, but barely noticed in his pursuit of the two rabbits. But he couldn't freak out, because if he did freak out then thistle would become distressed and he didn't want the two going hysterical in the middle of nowhere. Instead, he quickly composed himself and shrugged it off. After all, thorns never killed anyone. Right?

"Dad look! there's a trail on the ground!" Thistle pointed out. And indeed there was. A trail of red liquid ran from Speedwell, down the slope, back up the slope and then away into the fog.

"Do you think it leads back to the warren?" Thistle asked.

"What makes you say that?"

"There were thorns back there right?"

"Uh-uh" Speedwell didn't understand where thistle was going with this.

"And if you got those wounds from the thorn barrier" he paused for a moment, "maybe the blood trail could lead us back to it?"

Speedwell was amazed by Thistle's reasoning; he was so lucky to have Thistle as his son, even if he wasn't the best at trust management.

"Well then, follow that trail Thistle! We'll be home in no time"

"What about your wounds?"

"Don't worry about them! Just follow the trail."

"But what if the bad dark rabbit follows the trail as well? She hasn't disappeared into thin air you know,"

Speedwell knew the little rabbit was right; glowing splotches of bright red, almost glowing unnaturally marked where they had been, and even now Speedwell could see a trail leading behind them and into the fog. But there was nothing they could do about it. Their only hope was to wait until the wounds healed, although the dark rabbit could just follow along the trail as well. For all they knew the Dark rabbit was waiting by the thorn barrier, ready to kill or maim or drag them back to the put. They were part of the thousand that was for sure. But…

"It's the only way back we have thistle,"

And so they ran off following the trail, Speedwell making sure they weren't being followed, and Thistle keeping his eyes glued to the trail, trusting that his father would keep him safe. On several occasions both stopped and stood in complete silence, listing out for any sounds of the Dark rabbit or other predators. At one point Speedwell could've sworn he heard a third heartbeat somewhere in the fog. But nothing came of it and they both continued on their merry little way.

After what seemed like ages, silhouettes of trees started to creep into view, Speedwell knew that they were getting closer to home. And soon enough the thorn barrier came into view, causing both of them to sign in relief, and both sprinted to the throne barrier, eager to go home. Underneath they crawled, carefully as to not make any more cuts and wounds that would allow them to be tracked (as Speedwell's has stopped bleeding quite a while ago.) and continued on through the faintly familiar woods.

The dead woods. That's the only way Speedwell could describe it. The usual calls of birds, the buzzing of insects, even the scent of elil was absent. Instead, the blowing of winds that dared not touch the rabbits nor fog filled the air. Speedwell shivered. _What kind of place is this?_

Onward they crept through the foggy landscape. Each would stop even at the slightest noise; a twig snapping somewhere behind them, a particularly hard gust of wind through the trees, their heartbeats grew louder and faster. Thistle had a fearful expression on his face until speedwell pulled him in closer, squeezing him, which helped relax him a little. Speedwell, on the other hand, stayed on edge.

"Dad I'm tired! Can we stop somewhere?" Thistle whined and crashed against Speedwell's flank, nearly knocking him over. He grumbled, half surprised that thistle would complain in a place like this, but promised his son that they would as soon as they found a spot, not in the woods, and much safer.

Soon they came across a man-made road cutting through the woods, it was something Speedwell was surprised he was happy to see.

"What is this thing?" Thistle questioned as he scraped at the blacktop.

"It's something hrududu run on," he said matter-of-factly, "Usually there would be a lot of them running up and down, scampering to frith knows where to do frith knows what." He looked up and down the road and raised his ears to see if any were approaching. Nothing. "In the daytime, they're mostly harmless as long as you don't get in their way; when it's nighttime is when they're really dangerous."

"How so?" The young buck cocked his head.

"Their eyes glow with such a brightness; they make you go tharn and then crush you,"

"How awful!,"

"It is. Humans make the things unsurprisingly. But there's none of them around as far as I can see, Let's follow this road if we get to nuthanger farm well be home free!"

" _The_ nuthanger farm?" A smile spread across the little bucks face.

"Yes,"

"Oh boy!" His eyes twinkled with wonder. He was finally going to be able to see the famed Nuthanger farm. Truly hallowed ground

And so the two followed the road as it led them through the forest, winding and snaking its way through. Sooner than expected the road straightened out and lead them out of the woods. Then the countryside started to look familiar! he picked up the pace in his eagerness (but stayed close to the road), half forgetting that he had a much younger and slower rabbit following him.

"Dad!" Thistle panted, "Could you slow down?

"We're almost there thistle. And if you can't hold out then there should be a human nest up ahead where we can stop and take a break."

Speedwell was right; soon enough the shape of a house emerged through the fog, around it stood a tall stone fence. the road passed right by it but broke and lead to the wooden gate as well.

"Here we are," Speedwell said.

Thistles' eyes lit-up. He was here! He really was! The place that the great thistle had walked was here.

The older rabbit was amused by Thistle's awe.

"Don't get ahead of yourself thistle. We're not sure if it's even safe to stay here." Then speedwell scrambled under the rickety wooden gate.

The other side was an interesting sight to behold. A path ran from the gate and split between a house and a farmhouse. The house stood as a dark silhouette in the fog, its chimney shooting from the roof and burying itself in the fog. Pitch black nothing showed through the windows. Across the path stood the farmhouse, as foreboding as ever, doubly so in the fog. There was no sign of life either. There were no lights, and no scent of the dog or cat or other rabbits or humans, it was all still. Too still. Speedwell shivered and crawled back under the gate.

"Come on thistle, follow me."

The pair scrambled under the gate and down the dirt path.

"We'll be safe over there," he nodded his head towards the farmhouse.

There was a crack between the two big double-doors _just_ big enough for a full-grown rabbit like speedwell. After Thistle had slipped through and Speedwell not-so-gracefully squeezed through, Speedwell set out to find a comfortable place to rest, which was easier said than done. The farmhouse had huge scary bits and bobs hung up on the wall, their rusty imperfect surfaces glinting in the ambient light. On the ground law devices that speedwell could only imagine what they would do. Then he saw it: In the corner on top of a drawer stood a hutch, it's door broken open by frith knows what.

"Thistle!" He called

The two hopped into one of the open hutches and made themselves at home. The outside had gone completely black leaving only the pale moonlight glow to shine through the fog and illuminate the farmhouse in an eerie go. They were safe in the darkness.

Speedwell didn't realize how tired he had been until he laid down and closed his eyes. He started to drift off, and just before he fell into the chasm of dreams he could feel thistle snuggling up warm next to him. Speedwell smiled. Everything was going to be okay.


	9. Chapter 9

"Deeper in they crept

oblivious of the bears and darker terrors

Or none were there

How did they dare?"

-Murders, Miracle Musical

 **{***}**

Speedwell woke up a good while before Thistle even began to stir. The thought of waking him crossed Speedwell's mind, but he soon thought against it. If they were at the farm some fresh flayrah must be nearby, he reasoned.

Steadily he hopped from the broken hutch and onto the cold dirt floor below. He looked about him, taking in the rank smell of the farm equipment and chemicals. Washed out light from the fog outside the ajar barn door poured over the ground and farm equipment, giving it a ghastly appearance.

Speedwell slowly hopped over to the door and peered outside; there were none of those dark-rabbits outside. _Thank you frith!_ The old rabbit squeezed through the barn doors, careful not to reopen his tender wounds.

Going off his memory, Speedwell managed to find the vegetable garden, and to his delight, found that there was a good amount of flayrah growing. So carefully, he picked out as many carrots and beets he could carry and brought them back to the hutch, where Thistle was just beginning to stir.

"Good morning Thistle," Speedwell said as his soon looked at what he had brought, "I've just gone on a mini-garden raid. Eat up"

"Thanks Dad!" Thistle said cheerfully and he quickly started on the flayrah before him.

Speedwell watched with a somber smile as Thistle happily gobbled down the food. Then events of the day before caught up to him.

"Thistle?"

The young rabbit looked up from his feast.

"Yeff?" He mumbled through a mouthful of carrots.

"Who was that rabbit you were talking to? Why were you following her?"

Thistle quietly chewed on his food, then swallowed with difficulty. He looked at Speedwell with guilty eyes.

"She said she was my mother,"

At the word "mother" a glimmer of worry sparked in Speedwell. It couldn't be!  
"That's impossible, she's been dead since before you could even see!"

"I know, but she said something about how this world doesn't work like ours,"

" _This world?_ What did she mean by that?"

"I don't know," Thistle hung his head in shame.

Thistle was beginning to make Speedwell frustrated, first running off, and now this.

"It's okay thistle. Please don't run off with random strangers again, even if they do say they're your mother,"

"Okay."

Speedwell felt a tinge of guilt, he didn't mean to be that harsh.

"Are you done with your flahray?"

"Yes," Thistle was still looking down.

"Then come on, we can discuss this more when we get back to the downs,"

The two hopped down out of the hutch, squeezed through the door, and quickly made their way to the wooden gate, where the dirt drive spilled onto the asphalt road. There the two scanned the washed-out landscape to make sure there weren't any dark rabbits about. Confident there weren't any, Speedwell started towards the direction of the honeycomb, Thistle in tow.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Thistle questioned, hopping alongside his father.

"I'm confident! I know the way by heart, We won't get lost,"

 **{***}**

"We're lost,"

The duo had been traveling for way longer than what seemed necessary, and Speedwell himself was beginning to tire out. Thistle flopped down onto his stomach almost as soon as Speedwell had proclaimed their situation, and gave a small whimper.

How could they have drifted so far from home? He felt more frustration, If it wasn't for Thistle hey wouldn't be in this mess, But he pushed the thoughts from his mind. Right now they needed to find a way back home. Sitting around and moping wouldn't help their situation.

"Okay, I don't think we'll be arriving at the warren anytime soon," Said Speedwell finally.

Thistle gave a grumble,

"We're going to have a dig a scrape for the night," he looked into the sky, shrouded in a monotone gray, "whenever night comes," He looked back at his son.

"Thistle? Do you remember the story I told you about when we had to dig our own scrapes before it started to rain?"

"Yeah?"

"It looks to me like we're going to have to do that now."

Thistle gave another grumble.

"Come on, It's easy once you get the hang of it; here I'll show you,"

Speedwell began to pay at the earth, scoping pawful after pawful from the ground until there was a small divot in the earth, in which afterward he called over thistle, showing the young buck how to correctly scrape out the dirt. The two worked for a good long while until they eventually found themselves inside a cramped hole that could _just_ hold the two of them.

"This should suffice," Speedwell said simply and went to go silflay, leaving Thistle inside the scrape.

Speedwell absentmindedly chewed at the dry grass, wishing that they were home. It wasn't in a rabbits' nature to be so far away from home. Would they ever find their way home? He began to worry, would they die out here? _No! Pull yourself together Speedwell, you'll get back to your home before you know it, it'll just take a while_. But repeating the inner monologue didn't make him any more optimistic.

"Speedwell?"

A voice behind him caused him to jump. He whipped around towards the speaker and splayed out his claws, ready to attack. It was a dark-rabbit, and Speedwell was face to face with one. Without a thought, Speedwell raked his claws against the rabbit's face. A surge of pain went through his paw as he did it, but thankfully it was enough to stun the dark.

Speedwell shook out the pain from his throbbing paw. He tensed as the black-rabbit lifted his head, revealing a jagged scratch across his muzzle.

"Who are you?" Speedwell shouted, "What do you want from me?" his heart began to beat against his chest.

The black-rabbit touched his injury with his paw, studied said paw, and then set it down on the ground. Then in a low growl, he said, "Don't you remember me? I was your best friend Speedwell! I'm Acorn!"


	10. La familia en la niebla

"And Lo, the ghost of a man ages thought to be dead

A smile and a ribbon he wore with a dutiful pose

A wink, A prick from the thorn of that beautiful rose"

-Touch Tone Telephone, Lemon Demon

* * *

"Acorn?" Speedwell couldn't believe what this stranger was saying. It simply couldn't be true! Could it? He thought about what thistle had said earlier that day, about the strange dark-rabbit.

"Yes that's my name, don't wear it out!" the buck said cheerfully. The scratch that speedwell had made faded from his dark brown fur. That dark brown fur, just a bit _too_ dark to be Acorn's. But then again, he did look familiar. He could recognize the slightly bent right ear of his late companion, along with that, Speedwell could pick up a faintly familiar scent coming from the dark-rabbit. It wasn't strange, or dangerous, but familiar, like the smell of spring after a long harsh winter. The whole ordeal was making speedwell more and more confused by the minute, so much so that he only managed to ask a simple "How?"

"To be perfectly honest with you Speedwell, I have no clue either. One minute I'm enjoying my time in the afterlife, the next I find myself in the fog!"

"So, you really are Acorn?"

"In the flesh!" Acorn smirked.

"Then why are you so, Dark? You have the same scent as far as I can remember, and the same ear, but why is your fur different?"

Acorn, Looked at his own body, then looked back at Speedwell, "I have no idea,"

"Also, what do you know about the others like yourself?"

"What others?" Acorn looked rather confused by the question.

"The other dark-rabbits,"

Acorn thought for a long while then said, "No, I didn't know there were others, Do you know who they are?"

"Well, Thistle said that he came across a dark-rabbit like yourself, who claimed to be his mother. And now that you, my late friend, are standing alive and well in front of me, I'm starting to believe maybe it was my past mate," But why would she act so mischievously if that was the case? It was a question Speedwell wanted to answer but decided against it. Acorn probably wouldn't know either.

"Thistle?"

"Yes, Thistle, Did I forget to tell you I have a son? Silly me!"

Acorn's eyes lit up, "I didn't know you were a father!"

Speedwell beamed, "It's true. He's the best child that a father could ask for! And he's pretty smart too, maybe even smarter than strawberry"

"Where is your son currently?" Acorn asked, peering past Speedwell towards the entrance of the scrape.

"Oh he's in the scrape, I can get him if you'd like to meet him,"

"I'd love to"

"Thistle!" Speedwell called. And soon the young buck emerged from the scrape, an expression of confusion on his face.

"I'd like to introduce you to my late friend, Acorn!" Speedwell gestured to the rabbit he was referring to, who then waved when Thistle layed eyes on him.

"Hey, Thistle! Your father told me all about you. He says you're a very intelligent rabbit for your age, maybe even smarter than Blackberry" Acorn said cheerfully.

Thistle saw only kindness in his eyes, there was evil, no facade, and thus instantly trusted Acorn.

"Thanks," Thistle mumbled and hid behind Speedwell.

Acorn only laughed, "Shy one isn't he?" he said to Speedwell

Then to Thistle, "Just like your father when he was little,"

"Imagine that!" Acorn thought out loud, "Your father being a small, frightful buck!"

Thistle peaked out from behind his father and gave a small laugh.

"I wouldn't blame you if you couldn't" cracked Acorn, to which Speedwell gave a cross look at the joker, and Thistle laughed his head off. At this point, Thistle warmed up to Acorn and came out from his hiding place behind Speedwell and started asking Acorn all sorts of questions that little-kits ask when they meet one of their heroes.

As the two talked, Speedwell looked on with a smile on his face. Perhaps he was just being too pessimistic. Maybe, just maybe everything was going to be fine, everything was going to work out in the end. Suddenly the two burst in a fit of laughter, causing Speedwell to relax enough to join the conversation.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Acorn teased, "I was just about to tell this little rascal here about the time when you got caught in a thorn bush and refused to get help because you were a prideful little kit,"

"Hey!" Speedwell exclaimed and then cuffed Acorn playfully.

"Did that actually happen?" Thistle asked innocently.

Speedwell reluctantly said, "Yes," to which the other two laughed.

"Did I tell you about the time when Acorn got scolded by Bigwig because he wanted to go back to sandleford warren?"

"Hey! You wanted to go back too!"

"Oh yeah. Good times.

The three enjoyed each-others company until the fog began to darken.

"It's getting dark," Speedwell said, noticing that the fog's change in color, "I think it's time for bed Thistle,"

Thistle responded with a yawn.

"Alright, you can go to the scrape, I'll chat with Acorn for a little longer,"

Thistle nodded and disappeared into the burrow. It was then Speedwell realized there was a spacing problem.

"Oh dear, I don't think we have enough room for you in the scrape! Maybe if we-"

"No, no. It's fine Speedwell. I don't need to sleep underground," Acorn assured.

"But what if there are elil out tonight?"

"Oh, don't worry about that, I haven't come across any elil since I found myself in the fog,"

Speedwell made a mental note of what Acorn had just said, "But where will you go?"

The sky was nearly pitch-black darkness now, and Thistle had most likely fallen asleep by now.

Acorn just chuckled, "I'll be around,"

And with that Acorn seemed to sink into the darkness and disappear. From somewhere in the fog, Speedwell could hear Acorn say, "Goodnight, I'll check up with you in the morning," and with that, the only sound Speedwell could hear was the rustling of grass through a non-existent wind. Speedwell soon retired to the scrape and found a still awake Thistle inside.

"Where's Acorn?" he asked.

"He's gone," Speedwell said simply.

"For good?"

"No, He said he'd be back tomorrow,"

"That's good," Thistle said, "Could I ask a question?"

"Go right ahead,"

"How did Acorn die?"

Speedwell was caught off guard by the question but realized that Thistle meant no harm in asking, "It was a very cold winter," Speedwell started, "There was hardly any food to go around, and the snow buried all the grass and plants. It proved too much for Acorn to handle,"

"Oh," Acorn lowered his head in sadness.

Noticing this, Speedwell ended the story on a lighter tone.

"But the important thing is that he's here now, and you get to meet him,"

Thistle gave a sleepy smile, and with a groggy "I guess so," fell asleep besides Speedwell.

Speedwell looked out the scrapes entrance into the infinitely deep darkness. He could hear the soft breathing of his son and the soft raising and lowering of his chest.

Speedwell was content.


End file.
